


Good Directions

by SoloArcana



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - It's a Terrible Life (Supernatural), Beekeeper Castiel (Supernatural), Dean and Pie, First Meetings, Found Dean, Getting Lost, Honey, Inspired by Music, M/M, Meet-Cute, Naomi Not Being a Big Bag of Dicks, Naomi as an Actual Good Parent, Pie, Sweet Tea, Title from a Country Song, Writer Castiel, lost Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-06-24 09:32:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19720969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoloArcana/pseuds/SoloArcana
Summary: About an hour later, Castiel is floating in that drowsy not-awake-but-not-asleep headspace, when the sound of tires on gravel tugs him out of his reverie. It's a silver Prius, windows tinted just dark enough to keep the driver hidden. He shifted in his chair, preparing to be sociable, and nearly falls out.The man who steps out of the car is easily the most beautiful person that Castiel has ever seen. He's tall, broad shoulders and trim hips swathed in thin cotton and sturdy denim. His eyes are hidden behind dark glasses, and when his lips part, his voice is honeyed whiskey."Thank god," the man exclaims as he approaches Castiel. "I was beginning to think I was completely lost. Any chance you can tell me how to get back onto the interstate from here?"





	Good Directions

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes, your WIP ticks right along until you finish it, and you don't want to pull your hair out. 
> 
> Other times, you're just cruising down the road, listening to music, and a brand-spanking-new meet-cute lands in your lap, demanding your attention. This is that meet-cute. 
> 
> Inspired by Good Directions by Billy Currington.

If one were to come upon Castiel, at best, they'd think he was bored. At worst, they'd think he was asleep.

Both assumptions would be incorrect. 

Perhaps he wasn't visibly occupied, kicked back in a reclining folding chair under the flapping canvas tent of Sweet Nectar, but if anyone thought him bored, they weren't looking hard enough. Castiel's eyes saw everything around him from the protection of mirrored aviators. He watched the cars at the four-way stop a few hundred feet from his stand, wondering idly about the occupants and their stories. Stories intrigued him. People in general interested him, and he spent a good deal of his time in the stand weaving stories. Some of these would actually make it to the page. He kept a small notebook handy to help him remember his ideas, after he'd learned the hard way that his memory wasn't quite reliable when it came to his more intricate plots. At the moment though, he's content to sit in his chair and watch this little slice of the world. 

About an hour later, Castiel is floating in that drowsy not-awake-but-not-asleep head space, when the sound of tires on gravel tugs him out of his reverie. It's a silver Prius, windows tinted just dark enough to keep the driver hidden. He shifted in his chair, preparing to be sociable, and nearly fell out. 

The man who steps out of the car is easily the most beautiful person that Castiel has ever seen. He's tall, broad shoulders and trim hips swathed in thin cotton and sturdy denim. His eyes are hidden behind dark glasses, and when his lips part, his voice is honeyed whiskey. 

"Thank god," the man exclaims as he approaches Castiel. "I was beginning to think I was completely lost. Any chance you can tell me how to get back onto the interstate from here?"

Castiel stares for a moment. He didn't think stopping for directions was something people did anymore since the spread of smartphones. 

"Usually, you'd be right. I left my charger in the hotel room, and my car charger is busted. No Google maps for me until I find a stop where I can buy a new one." 

_ Oh god.  _ He said that out loud. Now he feels ridiculous.  _ Get it together, Novak. He's lost. Be a decent human being and help him out.  _

"I can see how that would be inconvenient. I can help you with both of your problems, actually." Castiel gets to his feet and walks around the table, taking care not to knock over the artfully arranged display. 

"That would be great, man. I'd really appreciate it."

"Okay," Castiel points straight ahead with one hand, while he rests the other on the man's shoulder. "If you head straight that way, past the caution light, you'll find a little country store. Can't miss it. Big Coke sign out front. Miss Naomi has the best sweet tea around, and she keeps the store stocked with all kinds of things travelers tend to lose or forget. You can get yourself a nice, cold drink and replace your broken charger. From there, you can take a left back onto the interstate. Or, if you're not in a hurry, you can take a right." He glances at the man, and mentally curses his dark glasses. Castiel wonders if his eyes match the rest of him. 

"What's to the right," he asks. 

"A right will bring you right back here. To me." Castiel smiles, hoping he doesn't come off as a creep. He's been told he has a beautiful smile too many times to count. 

Instead of being put off, the man releases a deep, full-throated laugh. "You don't mince words, do you?" 

"I'm told that I have a tendency to be blunt at times. I apologize if I've made you uncomfortable. I can assure you that the directions are good, and that I'm not a serial killer."

This just makes the man laugh again, which turns Castiel's smile into a grin. "No, I'm sure they're good. Thanks a lot." The man plucks a jar from the display and hands Castiel a bill. "Thanks again, man. Have a great day."

Castiel watches as he strides back to the Prius, making a mental note that the rear view is every bit as breathtaking as the front. The car backs up and is on the road in less than a minute, its gorgeous driver gone with it. Castiel kicks a rock and returns to his chair and his notebook. He doesn't expect anymore excitement today. 

-*-*-*-*-

An hour later finds Castiel sitting in his chair, notebook balanced open on his knee, pencil tapping against his lips. He couldn't get his gorgeous customer out of his mind. Where was he from? Why was he here? What does he do for a living? Hell, Castiel hadn't even thought to ask his  _ name _ . 

Not that it would have mattered if he had. What would he do with it? Facebook stalk the guy? No thanks. Castiel might be a little rusty dealing with people, (his brother says it's because he spends too much time with his characters, and not enough time socializing), but he's well-aware of how creepy that would be. 

He considered, briefly, jumping in his truck and driving to Miss Naomi's store.  _ Again, delving into creeper territory there, Cas, _ he tells himself.  _ You just happened to be here when he needed help. It's not like it was love at first sight or anything. He probably didn't think about you at all after he left.  _

But, oh. What if it was? 

_ Keep it in your books, Cas. Real life doesn't work out that way. _

Resolving to get some actual writing done while he waited out the day, Castiel flipped on his Bluetooth speaker and got to work. Gradually, the words worked their magic, and he lost track of time. 

*-*-*-*-*

He was deep into a tricky patch of dialogue when the sound of rubber on gravel interrupted him. Looking up, he blinked repeatedly. Surely, he was seeing things. He had to be. 

It was the same silver Prius. 

Castiel pinched himself. Nope, not dreaming. The beautiful man had returned. Not only that, he was walking towards Castiel with two large to-go cups. Castiel placed his notebook onto the table and walked up to meet him.

"Don't tell me, you're still lost," Castiel asked with a smile.

The man grinned and rubbed the back of his neck. "Would it be too cheesy if I said that I think I'm actually found?" 

"What makes you think that?"

"Okay, here's the thing. I did exactly what you told me to do. Past the caution light, hit the store. Got my charger, noticed that the little counter served pie, so I sat down and had a slice. You were right, Miss Naomi has the best sweet tea. We got to talking, and it just felt…"

Castiel was intrigued. "How did it feel?"

He huffed out a breath. "It felt right. Sitting at a little counter, in a little store, it felt like home. When I told her how I'd found her place, she just smiled and told me my order was on the house. Then she brought out two to-go cups and sent me back here. Said at this point, you'd be hot and thirsty, and that your cooler would be empty. Not sure how she knew that, but I wasn't gonna argue with her."

Castiel threw back his head and laughed. Miss Naomi wasn't wrong. It was hot, he was thirsty, and his cooler had been empty for awhile. He tended to forget these minor details when he was working. He also forgot to socialize with real people. Apparently, she thought this gorgeous man would draw him out. 

"Gonna share with the rest of the class? 'Cause I feel like I'm missing the joke, here."

"No joke. None at all. And I don't think feeling found is cheesy at all. Some places, some people, can just be  _ home _ , without a tangible reason." Castiel sets what he's sure is his mother's sweet tea down on the table and turns back to his visitor. 

"I'm Castiel Novak. Miss Naomi is my mother. And I'm very, very glad you came back. Even if I don't know your name."

A grin splits the man's face, and he removes his sunglasses. 

_ Green.  _

His eyes are the most amazing shade of green Castiel has ever seen, and he's lost. 

"Nice to meet you, Cas. I'm Dean. How do you feel about burgers?"

  
  


END

**Author's Note:**

> The main problem I had to work around to write this story was that Dean would never get lost. Between physical maps and Google maps, I can't see a scenario in which Dean would actually stop and ask for directions. Then, it hit me. 
> 
> Dean Winchester might not get lost, but I can bet money that Dean Smith would. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed Good Directions! Feel free to find me on Tumblr (I'm SoloArcana there, as well) where I reblog an obscene amount of Supernatural content and the occasional piece of fic, or on Twitter (@CraftedGeekery) , where I scream into the void about Destiel, doggos, and other things that make me think.


End file.
